Posted!

Join the Conversation

Comments

Welcome to our new and improved comments, which are for subscribers only.
This is a test to see whether we can improve the experience for you.
You do not need a Facebook profile to participate.

You will need to register before adding a comment.
Typed comments will be lost if you are not logged in.

Please be polite.
It's OK to disagree with someone's ideas, but personal attacks, insults, threats, hate speech, advocating violence and other violations can result in a ban.
If you see comments in violation of our community guidelines, please report them.

Josh Robinson buried his face in his hands. The 17-year-old felt numb as he sat in the principal's office at Franklinton High School in Louisiana.

A judge had sentenced his mother to an 18-month prison sentence for multiple crimes.

It's a life that was never too distant for the Bogalusa, Louisiana native.

"The boys I grew up with, they're in jail, dead, or still on the corner," Robinson said. "I just never was that dude. I was always out playing."

He saw cocaine on the street and watched others make four-figure drug deals.

"I could have easily been a drug dealer," Robinson said. "It's just not me. I wouldn't do it."

Robinson grew up without his father. His mother has been in his life sparingly. His grandmother raised him until he was 12.

The number "23" is tattooed onto his chest.

His grandfather died on May 23, 2004. On May 23 of the following year, his grandmother died. On Feb. 23, 2011, the day he broke down in the principal's office, his mom was sentenced to prison.

"Josh is almost like a miracle kid," Robinson's Little League coach Mike Dodds said. "He shouldn't be doing what he's doing now."

Last year, on Nov. 23, he rushed for his first 100-yard game.

"The No. 23 is starting to go my way," Robinson said.

He's one of the best running backs in the Southeastern Conference, representing Mississippi State.

His journey would have forced many off the path.

Without his grandmother, Robinson leaned on the community to guide him to Starkville. Still, there were nights he went to sleep hungry. He had no money. He once slept alone in his car.

"How in the hell does a kid do that?" Franklinton assistant Principal Jeremy Gueldner said. "It's just his perseverance. He has an amazing ability to always preserve."

'RIP Sand Hill'

Robinson heard his grandmother walking down the hallway. It was almost time for church, but he was still in bed.

"I heard a loud boom," Robinson said. "She fell and hit her head in the back of the stove. She had a massive heart attack."

Gwendolyn "Sand Hill" Robinson Brown died at 51. Robinson was 12.

"It took a while," Charles Brown, Gwendolyn's husband, said. "Me and him, and his sisters, we just tried to stick together. It took time for us to realize she was gone."

Robinson was born when his mother was 16 years old. He didn't meet his father until he was in high school. His grandmother was the maternal figure in his life.

"She was a hard worker. No matter what the situation was, she'd find a way," Robinson said. "She's a problem solver. Just how I am. Just find a way."

For the last decade, his pregame routine begins with his grandmother. He's worn the same sleeveless T-shirt created in her memory. Her name arcs over his chest in script writing. On the back, six pictures are scattered in two rows with the words "RIP Sand Hill."

"A female version of me, she wasn't as goofy," Robinson said. "She'll keep you in line, shoot, she'll keep anyone in line."

Robinson has one of the biggest personalities on Mississippi State. He's photobombed MSU coach Dan Mullen twice this season, once during a local media interview and then on a national stage on CBS.

He's rarely seen without a smile. It masks his past.

"It's just my personality. It was just how I was raised," Robinson said. "She always told me have a smile on my face."

The guidance never left her grandson. She's no longer cheering from the stands, but he always keeps her close.

"She was my biggest fan. She always cheered for me," Robinson said. "I can hear her when I walk into the end zone."

'Life messed up'

Robinson never missed a Little League practice. It meant a several-mile walk to the diamond to field pop flies and ground balls, take a few cuts of batting practice and then return home carrying his bat bag.

One day after practice, coach Mike Dodds noticed the routine.

"If you knew where the ballpark was and where he lived, it was many, many miles," Dodds said. "My heart went out to him."

It began an outreach by the Bogalusa and Franklinton communities to help raise Robinson after his grandmother died.

Many practices ended with Dodds taking his son, Drew, and Robinson out for a hamburger or two. Robinson rarely ate his. He had two sisters — D'sha and De'Zyriah — to worry about at home.

"The food they bought for me, I'd bring it home. We'd share it," Robinson said. "There was food in the house, but there really wasn't too much we could do with it."

Dodds drove Robinson around during high school. He and his son would drive across town to pick Robinson up when the running back lived with his mother. Dodds became accustomed to late-night calls from Robinson wanting to spend the night elsewhere.

"Life messed up," Robinson said. "I just gotta deal with it. You have to learn how to adapt to your environment."

He also spent nights with Johnny and Tammy Crain.

During the summer Robinson worked with the Crains' son, Johnny Crain III, to earn spending money. They planted, harvested and sold watermelons.

"Josh is a good boy," Tammy Crain said. "You won't find any bad in him."

During his junior and senior years of high school, Robinson lived with Sheila McGee, the mother of Robinson's friend.

Once McGee heard about Robinson's living arrangements, it didn't take long for the single mother to open her home.

"She was just there for me," Robinson said. "I had a connection. I just had a connection with her."

'This is your future'

No problem existed that some cigarettes and a cup couldn't solve. Any issue surrounding Robinson was discussed at McGee's kitchen table. He explained the problem. McGee shared wisdom with a cigarette in her mouth.

McGee smoked a lot during Robinson's senior year.

As an eighth-grader, Robinson started for Pine High School in 2007. He transferred to Franklinton High School as a freshman.

Every morning, his uncle and grandfather drove Robinson 30 minutes round-trip to the bus stop. They repeated the trek in the afternoon. When Robinson's uncle moved to Biloxi, he left him his silver Nissan Maxima.

"I just wanted to make sure he had everything that he needed," Chris Robinson said. "Me and him are close. I treated him like he was my son."

Robinson's move to Franklinton cost him a year of eligibility. He had three years remaining, since he played at Pine in eighth grade. It set him on a path to graduate in three years at the age of 17.

"We had a plan when we first got started with this," Tammy Crain said. "I told him, 'You're going to be a senior, and you're going to be sitting on the sideline.' "

To avoid that, Robinson took nine classes his senior year in 2010-11. His days began at 6 a.m. He took seven classes during school and then went to football practice. When practice ended, school continued.

Jeremy Gueldner, Franklinton's assistant principal, and his wife, Mary Catherine, who was a teacher at Franklinton, taught him in the evening.

"He put forth all the effort. He worked his tail off," Jeremy Gueldner said. "We were just there. Everyone needs somebody to nudge them in the right direction."

Robinson spent four nights a week at the Gueldners' during football season. When football ended, he quit baseball so he could study five nights a week.

He arrived at each session with a binder and a laptop, which the Crains purchased for him.

"Heck, school's hard enough as it is. Then he was doing extra work," his friend Drew Dodds said. "Shoot, in high school you don't want to do more than you have to. But that's what he had to do."

It paid off.

The night classes helped Robinson graduate early and become academically eligible to enroll at Mississippi State.

"He would come in and say, 'I'm quitting school, I'm just going to get me a job,'" McGee said. "I always told him, 'Son, nothing in life worth having is easy. This is your future.' "

The post-practice schooling led Robinson to Macy Gueldner, the daughter of Jeremy and Mary Catherine. At the time, Macy, who has Down syndrome, was a year old.

Now 4, she battles leukemia.

"She's my baby," Robinson said, smiling. "I used to come over there and play with her."

Robinson wears an orange bracelet on his right wrist in honor of Macy. "Team Macy" along with her St. Jude's patient number is engraved on it.

Both are worn down from three seasons of practice and games. Robinson never takes it off. The Gueldners offered Robinson a new bright orange band after Mississippi State's win against Auburn. He wanted the original.

"It's such an honor for us, that he thinks enough of us, enough of our daughter that he wears that every week," Jeremy Gueldner said.

'Playing in the shadow'

The rules were different for Robinson. His talent forced the hand of his Little League coaches.

At shortstop, he wasn't allowed to run to the right of second base or past third. While catching, he had to stay behind the plate.

"If the ball was hit to shortstop, he'd run and tag the boy out at first base," Tammy Crain said. "We had to do special rules for Josh because of his athletic ability."

Robinson never struggled on a field, regardless of whether it was a diamond or a gridiron. He earned the nickname "Touchdown" Robinson.

"He'd touch the ball four times," Crain said. "He'd have four touchdowns."

His final two years at Franklinton, he helped lead the Demons to a 28-2 record with back-to-back appearances in the state championship, including a state title his senior season.

After beating Haughton (a team quarterbacked by his future MSU teammate, Dak Prescott) in the Class 4-A semifinals, Franklinton won the 2010 state championship 34-28 against Edna Karr at the Superdome in New Orleans.

Robinson scored two touchdowns before breaking his hand. The senior forced the coaches to take his helmet and pads.

"He was going to try to go back into the game," Crain said. "He said to the freshmen 'Give me that helmet because you're not going to need it. I'm going back in this game.' They just about had to hold him down."

He traded "Touchdown" Robinson for Redshirt Robinson in 2011.

"He was very frustrated about not playing," Michelle Sales, Robinson's girlfriend, said. "There were times where he talked about going home and wanted to leave."

The running back didn't give the Bulldogs much to be impressed with his first year in the program.

"They would still have to report to home games. He would wait until the last minute," Sales said. "If he had to be there at 10 o'clock, he'd wait until literally 9:59 and leave. He did not want to be there."

When Robinson saw the field in 2012, he appeared in 12 games and carried the ball 55 times for 335 yards and a touchdown. He was accustomed to producing better numbers in a couple of games in high school.

"Coming in from high school, knowing you're the star, it's hard for you to adjust. You just want to immediately get on the field," Robinson said. "You play in the shadow. Shoot, it's just rough."

He arrived on campus in 2011 behind 1,000-yard rusher Vick Ballard. His first season on the field, he watched LaDarius Perkins rush for 1,000 yards.

Their success meant less playing time.

"Now all of a sudden you're just another kid on the team where everybody is pretty damn good," Gueldner said. "He had several people that were looking after him and all those people were gone. Now he's just on his own."

It nearly broke him.

"I wasn't even going to walk into Dan's office. I was going to go home," Robinson said. "But there's nothing to go home to."

Robinson's support system was more than three hours away. The Crains attended every game, but each week he questioned their arrival.

"We're not coming to see you play. We're coming to see you," Crain remembered telling Robinson. "Numerous times, we'd just have to get him and shake him and say 'You're here for your education.' "

From afar, his extended family reminded the running back of his journey — the time he spent on the field and in the classroom to be in Starkville.

"He called me and told me he was going to quit," Charles Brown said. "I said, 'Josh if you're going to quit, you're going to end up on the back of a garbage truck hauling garbage. I said give it another shot.' "

Robinson returned.

He entered this season with 794 career yards rushing on 133 carries and four touchdowns. He posted the numbers in 25 games, including two starts. In nine games with eight starts this year, he's rushed for 984 yards and 11 touchdowns.

He's changed numbers from 34 to 13, and nicknames. He's no longer "Touchdown." Instead he's known as "Bowling Ball" due to the low center of gravity his 5-foot-9, 205-pound body provides.

"Just faith. And shoot, pretty much my girl," Robinson said. "If she wasn't up here, shoot, I wouldn't have nothing to stay here for. I really feel like that. If I didn't have her here, I wouldn't be here."

'Our time to win'

Commonwealth Stadium in Lexington, Kentucky, was nearly empty. Earlier in the afternoon, on Oct. 25, more than 64,000 fans filled the aluminum bleachers with hopes of knocking off the No. 1 team in the country.

Instead, Mississippi State won its first game as the top-ranked team in the country, 45-31. The final player on the field was Robinson.

He was alone — but only for a minute.

Allie LaForce of CBS moved next to the running back to conduct an interview that would be aired to millions on network television.

"I'm the proudest papa in the world. Seeing him on TV every Saturday, getting to go to the games," Charles Brown said. "It's just a thrill. It's just a big thrill."

The pride extends through the community that helped Robinson. What was LSU country is slowing turning maroon.

Every Monday morning Sheila McGee's coworkers at the Covington, Louisiana, Wal-Mart expect a full report of Mississippi State's latest performance.

"They all know now. You know what, when I get to work, they come to me," McGee said. "Did you see? I had to get a lot of them in check. All they were looking at was LSU."

Tiger fans saw a firsthand account of Robinson's talent. The Louisiana native rushed for 197 yards in Baton Rouge. It was a career high until he totaled 198 yards against Kentucky. The junior is on pace to rush for 1,421 yards, which would be a school record.

The numbers he produced in high school are following him at Mississippi State.

"I never thought I'd be in college, or playing college ball or could go to the NFL," Robinson said. "But it's just a dream. I'm just living out my dream."